Witcher Senses. A tale of love for Mrs. Merigold.

Chapter One: Arrival in Novigrad.

"Give me the first thing you see when you get home." The Law of Surprise... screw that fucking thing. Fruitful was what the life of (Y/n) should have been. Merchant, Captain, General, Banker. These were the few things (Y/n) would have loved to have been, and all were easily within reach. With a mother from royal lineage and a father who held one of the larger shipping companies, (Y/n) was fifth in line for the throne of Cintra. However, that all changed when a Witcher saved her father from Drowners after a storm crashed their ship. That was fifteen years ago. She had been told to forget her past life, Witchers weren't meant to have many past connections after all. But even so, (Y/n) would often send the odd letter or two back to her parents, her father still disgraced with having to give away his only child.

It wasn't all bad however, (Y/n) could travel the world at her leisure. After she had done her however-many-years, worth of training. Along with the Manticore school, the school of the Serpent wasn't that well renowned but, like the wolf school, very precise and efficient. Contracts and other talks of work had led (Y/n) from her home in Cintra to the vineyards of Toussaint and with a sizeable coin pouch, laden on the side of her horse named Hound, (Y/n) walked into Novigrad. Suspicious, greedy and hateful eyes followed the young Witcher. But (Y/n) bore a smile not caring the glares, hitching Hound to a post outside The Golden Sturgeon the young swordswoman secured her belongings to her faithful mount and turned towards the door. Even from the street, normal ears would be able to hear the sounds of shouting, and hollering from the bar's patrons. Tossing a crown to a nearby Witch Hunter, (Y/n) thumbed in the direction of Hound. "There's another three if nobody takes my ploughing stuff." Dressed in shabby protective gear that looked three generations old, the Witch Hunter grinned, shifting his weight onto his axe.

"'Ight." Then his eyes seemed to drift towards the other side of Hound's saddle, black liquid dripped from underneath covers "What's that then?" he asked, yet remained unmoving.

"Wyvern." Was all (Y/n) said as she pushed open the door and ducked just in time for a mug of ale to smash against the wall where her head had been.

Under the cover of the drunken rabble, (Y/n) makes her way, unknowingly to most, to the counter and talked to the man washing away the remnants of booze from one of the many mugs. "Whaddya want?" he asked with a boorish tone.

"Something to lift mah spirits," was all (Y/n) said, sliding onto the stool and lightly throwing three crowns onto the counter. Deftly a hand swiped over the golden coins and then they were gone. The next second a wooden mug of golden liquid with white foam appeared in front of (Y/n). Taking the booze into her hand the Witcher listened intently for any sliver of exciting news being produced from the frothing mouths of drunkards. "Mah boy finally managed to plough Vivian!" one boasted while his friends laugh

"Four loaves for only three crowns, best day of me life it was" a woman exclaimed to her followers. Shaking her head (Y/n) sipped more of her drink. 'Need something bigger than sex and bread' she thought.

"Heard they're increasing the Witch Hunter numbah's again" one said from the back, interesting... but nowhere near as good as the reply.

"Probably because of Dijkstra's bathhouse."

'now why would a bathhouse need monitoring?' (Y/n) questioned herself, thankfully the bar maid swung by. A woman with bright blonde hair, dressed in a frilly white dress and brown apron. Gently (Y/n) tugged the girl, taking several tankards to the wash room, and pulled the woman so she was seated into (Y/n)'s lap.

"Wow, I didn't know such a beauty could be working here. Are all the bars filled with such radiant flowers?" Husky, sultry yet strangely romantic was (Y/n)'s flirtatious voice that made the bar maid blush. Her breasts pressed against the arm that secured her in (Y/n)'s lap.